I met Arnold in June of 1975, when I showed up unbidden at the studio, having just flown in from Chicago, hoping to secure a position as his assistant. I was greener than green, and assume the only reason he hired me was because I was persistent, respectful, Jewish, and wore a tie. (It certainly wasn't because of what passed for my portfolio at the time!)
It was a relatively quiet and calm period in the studio, yet for me, every day was fraught with anxiety as I sought to please your dad and perform up to his expectations. He was a perfectionist and rightfully so; I was eager but truly in over my head! My employment regretfully ended less than ten months later due to an incipient ulcer resulting from my inability (as a fairly immature and inexperienced person) to easily accommodate to the stresses and strains of Life In New York in general, and 39 West 67 in particular.
I am, incredibly, still a photographer, still in New York, and still in awe of your father's remarkable gifts. In my own humble way I've somehow conned Time magazine into publishing more than seventy of my portraits as covers over the last two decades and have managed to squeeze in the odd advertisement or two to pay the bills. His work, however, still shines like a beacon to me over the shifting seas of photography. My own experiences as a working photographer have only increased the depth of my respect for him through the years.